They Were Spinning
by toocoolforbeth
Summary: She wanted him, he wanted her. They were bad for each other. This was the only way they could talk. "Go back to the place we knew before, retrace our steps to the basement door." Song fic; Circles-All time Low. AU Clary/Jace. ONE SHOT.


**Hey guys. **

**This is just something that I thought of while listening to Circles by All Time Low.**

**I'm quite proud of it. It's only a one shot.**

**Hope you guys like it.**

**DISCLAIMER: Hah. Please. I can only dream of having half as much talent as the legendary Cassie Clare. **

**SONG: Circles-All Time Low (from The Party Scene album)  
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He leaned forward and kissed her, clumsily, hard on her mouth. She closed her eyes.

And then they were tangled in each other. Hands darted from place to place, exploring. Her legs wrapped around his waist and then she was pressing up against the wall, her entire world spinning. He sucked tentatively on the skin below her collarbone. She knew it would mark; she knew that it would cause her trouble. But she didn't care.

_Intelligent and thoughtful, she was the challenge he'd been waiting for; a reminder that creativity runs deep, like secrets._

She was tired of caring; tired of being the responsible one and tired of being safe. She wanted to let go and let him touch her and leave her with marks that would last for days. She wanted to get lost in his smell and the music pumping out of the speakers at full blast.

_Dark eyed dreamers - they were a dangerous pair. "Q" next to "U", scribbled out on paper_

She tangled her hands into his silky blonde hair and pulled his mouth up to hers, mashing their lips together. She felt it then; the thrill that always ran through her when she was with him, making her heart beat at the speed of light. It was a rush that ran through her veins, every time she thought of how it would make her teachers and even her friend's pale in shock, of how _angry _her mother would be if she found out. She grinned wildly against his mouth.

_They stop. They go. They're done._

They had been fighting, again, about something she couldn't even remember. His pride and her stubborn nature made a dangerous mix, and they always found themselves angry for some reason or another; ignoring each other's calls and blanking each other on the street, all the while wishing that one of them would just pick up the phone . She almost hadn't come that night, she'd been so angry at him.

_Go back to the place we knew before, retrace our steps to the basement door._ _I'll ask you if the rain still makes you smile._

But then he had called around her house at night, while her mother was out working and wooed her with his soft, lyrical words and his deep, soothing voice, beckoning her out of her "home" and into his car.

Now she was peeling off the wall and they were spinning again, and falling. They landed on the couch with a soft thud and she ran her fingers down his shirt, picking at the stubborn, plastic buttons. She reached the last button and he happily shrugged off the white linen shirt, revealing hard, fit muscles underneath. His hands slid under her tank top and she peeled it off without a second's hesitation.

The air in the basement was sticky, warm and unforgiving, but she barely noticed. It almost reminded her of the last time they had seen each other. It had been a Tuesday, she remembered, the rhythmic splattering of the rain against the window. She had smiled as she saw him approaching the house, soaked through to the bone with rain water. Of course, she wasn't smiling when he left.

_Like so much time that we spent in the fall. Put colour in our cheeks while the air turned cold. Preceding what became our bitter end._

There had been a time when things hadn't been this way, a long time ago, in their childhood. Days in the autumn spent running through central park without their coats, the chilled air turning their pale faces pink and forming goose bumps along their arms.

But then they grew up, and suddenly they couldn't talk to each other as friends anymore. She had been desperate to get him to speak to her, but the air had turned cold between them. Those days of carelessness had ended.

_Round in circles - let's start over. Round in circles - let's start over._

Then came high school and things were different. They found a way to talk to each other again, this time without words. Words never worked. Words made people angry, made them say things they shouldn't.

But they were talking in their own way; their swollen lips bruised necks were proof enough of that. And she still had him, even if it wasn't entirely the way she had wanted it. She was still his, he was still hers.

_Unanswered questions would be the only thing to stop them now._

"Do you love me?" She'd asked him. She hadn't meant to say it; it just slipped out. She regretted them the instant they left her mouth.

No answer. Just breathing, shallow, methodical breathes, in and out, in and out. And then kissing, hard, passionate and just enough to make her forget her own question.

_He was the poet, while she was the muse. She had a pen that she knew how to use._

There had been times when she had thought that possibly he did. Days spent without heat or lust, just sitting under the tree in the same park they had spent so many days of their childhood in. He would read her poetry and she would sketch every piece of him; his hands, his face, his neck. And his voice would turn sleepy, and his words sounded so genuine and real and made for her, even though they were written by somebody else. And then she would dare to think that maybe, just maybe, he loved her as much as she loved him.

But they didn't matter, those words: "Do you love me."

What was love anyway? Overrated. It was something that came from fairy tales, children's stories.

She didn't need it.

_A touch of redemption, a hint of elation. A recipe for disaster._

It always seemed to go the same way for them, when they risked communication in any other form but poetry and pictures and touching that seemed so shallow looking back on it, but felt so deep at the time. They would fight. She would curse at him and he would tell her how he wished they had never met. She would run out, fighting back tears.

And then he would come to her house, way past midnight, an apology on his lips. And she would sneak out of the house, the same feeling of elation in every beat of her heart.

It had, at one point, occurred to her how wrong this entire thing was. She knew they wouldn't last.

_Go back to the place we knew before, retrace our steps to the basement door. I'll ask you if the rain still makes you smile._

But there, on the lumpy couch in his basement, the wet, humid air clinging to their skin, it seemed like they had time, like they could keep rebuilding whatever it was they had every time it broke down.

_Like so much time that we spent in the fall. Put colour in our cheeks while the air turned cold._

His long, pianist fingers drew patterns and pictures on her back, like childhood drawings gone awry, and she pushed all memories from her mind, thinking only of him and her and now. Her body melded into his, and she let out a sigh, drunk on his smell and the way his skin felt against hers.

_Preceding what became our bitter end._

They still had time. They still had time.

_Let this be a lesson to us all._

Maybe they should have learnt from it, the fights and the constant back and forth motion of their relationship. But it was too late, they were in too deep. No turning back now.

_Round in circles - let's start over. Round in circles - let's start over._

Once upon a time she would have stopped herself, pulled back, and kept herself from getting hurt. But she wasn't reasonable enough or sober enough to be safe. She didn't want to be safe.

She wanted him. She wanted right now. All she could think about was this; hot skin pressed against hard muscle, the smell of sweat, vodka and adrenaline, hearts racing at a million miles an hour, clashing teeth and wandering hands. That was all she wanted. That was all she needed.

_Round in circles._

They were fine. They were always fine.

_Round in circles._

They didn't need love. It didn't mean anything

_Round in circles._

They would just keep fixing it. It was what they always did.

_Round in circles._

They still had time.

_**Review, please.**_


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